


Friendship, Hugs, and Starting Over

by HermaeusMora



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hug Jon Sims 2k19, Jon reconnects with Georgie and gets a hug, Light Angst, My mantra, Sort Of, that's pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 20:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermaeusMora/pseuds/HermaeusMora
Summary: Jon reconnects with Georgie in the weeks following his return from the hospital. Then he gets the hug he deserves. Just a mini-fic I wrote real quick for the Someone Hug Jon Sims Challenge on tumblr, issued bysomuchbetterthanthatand myself!





	Friendship, Hugs, and Starting Over

Jon finally texts Georgie. He’d wanted to reach out immediately after he left the hospital, but he opted to give her space. Figured she’d reach out herself soon enough, even with just a simple “I’m glad you’re alright” or “Be careful, Jon. Text me if you need me”. They were friends. ...They _are_ friends. And he knows they hadn’t been back in touch for that long, and he knows he went and died and came back as-- But they’re _friends._

After two weeks pass and he doesn’t hear from her, he finally accepts that he’s not going to. After two more weeks pass he finally breaks down late one night, stripped of his inhibitions by exhaustion and loneliness and sadness and _fear_ , and texts her himself.

 _I’m sorry_ , he says. For what, he’s not even sure himself. Everything. Being alive. Doing what he did, becoming what he’s become. Reaching out and trying to insert himself back into her life when she’s clearly done.

 _I’m sorry. Can we talk?_ He presses send before he can stop himself and waits.

It’s two full days and then some before his phone chimes with a reply: _What do you want to talk about?_

It’s so careful and impersonal that it makes his face burn with embarrassment, but it’s something and he’s taking it. And so they talk. Just small talk, mostly, stilted and awkward with long pauses, sometimes of up to a couple days, in between. She tells him vague things about work, idle gossip; she did send a picture of The Admiral once and it was the highlight of his week. He has much less to talk about on his end; nothing he has going on really seems safe to broach in this fragile, tenuous connection they have now, and he desperately doesn’t want her to stop replying. He needs this. He needs, just for a brief moment in the day, to feel human and normal and like he’s his old self having a conversation that his old self never would have seen the point in having.

So he asks her about her life and replies the best he can and tries not to think about the fact that she hasn’t once asked about his.

They try a call once, and only once. There’s too much static on the line for them to even begin to guess what the other is saying and so they quickly give up, Georgie texting him afterwards saying _Sorry about that. Must be my reception. Shitty phone._ They both know that’s not it. They don’t text anymore for the rest of the week.

When she does contact him again, it’s to tell him _This texting thing isn’t working out_ and his heart sinks. He can’t say he didn’t see this coming, of course. It hasn’t been working and he was an idiot to try, to even think that--

But before he can finish berating himself, a second message pops up: _Come over?_

* * *

Georgie isn’t sure what she expected to see when she opened her door.

Jon had _seemed_ enough like himself over text, from the little bits she’d been able to glean from his shallow replies. She’d missed him. God, of course she had. But she’d had six months to get used to missing him one way, and then he came back but it wasn’t right, it wasn’t him, it _couldn’t be_ , and in a way she’d had to start grieving him all over again.

When he’d got in touch with her, it took her two days to decide whether she wanted to reply. Whether she should. She knew it was a bad idea and would only make things harder for both of them. But damn it all, she _missed him_ . And no matter what had happened, no matter who or what he was now, _Jonathan Sims_ of all people was making an effort to reach out and say he needed someone and he’d have to do a lot worse than turn into a monster for Georgie to ignore that. They were too careful with each other though; there weren’t enough topics that felt safe to discuss, not over text, so she needed to _see_ him. To know for sure.

She isn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she opened her door, but somehow the sad, exhausted, and so familiar and so _human_ man standing in front of her - hands shoved stiffly in his pockets, not quite making eye contact and bearing an expression so openly uncertain that it made her heart hurt - was not it.

Her voice catches in her throat and she doesn’t have a clue what she even wants to say anyway, so she just studies him for a long moment. His hair is a mess. His clothes are rumpled and stained. His eyes are just a little bit _off_ in some indefinable way and his gaze is far too intense and carries a weight that was never there before. But then he shifts uncomfortably on his feet, giving her a little half wave and a shaky nervous smile and he’s instantly just so _Jon._

His voice is quiet and rough when he ventures to say, at last, “...Hello, Georgie. I, ah- Thank you. Thank for asking m-” but he doesn’t get to finish before she steps quickly towards him and wraps her arms around him in an embrace so abrupt and tight that she feels the air whoosh from his lungs.

He tenses in her arms immediately - _Jon_ , _just like Jon_ \- and she feels him begin to pull away, almost, before he cautiously loops his arms around her back and relaxes against her, slowly, in increments, like he’s not quite sure how to go about it. She idly wonders how long it's been since someone hugged this man, and she squeezes him tighter at the thought and rubs his back. He’s warm and way too thin and smells like dust and shitty coffee and cheap soap and _Jon._ Her Jon, her friend, and he’s here, he’s alive and whatever else he is doesn’t matter. Could never matter, she realizes.

“I missed you,” she murmurs against his shoulder. “I missed you so much, you absolute idiot. Don’t _ever_ do that do me again.”

She feels him shudder with a long, ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” he says at length, barely above a whisper.

“I know. Me too. I’m glad you’re back, Jon. I really am.”

He’s started trembling slightly, and Georgie realizes with a pang of alarm that he’s crying. It occurs to her immediately after that she’s crying too.

“Hey,” she begins, finally pulling back enough to wipe at her damp cheeks, “It’s going to be okay. Whatever’s going on with you, and I know it’s something, because you’re _you_ -” He snorts at that, despite himself and the clear tear tracks on his cheeks. “-Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

He takes another shaky breath and nods, lips pressed tightly together, not meeting her eyes.

In turn, she gives him another quick squeeze and then says, “Come on, let’s stop crying all over each other on my doorstep; I already give my neighbors enough to gossip about. Let’s go inside and talk, properly. I know The Admiral will be happy to see you.”

In response, a loud meow and the excited patter of cat feet sounds from somewhere in the flat as Jon, genuinely - if hesitantly - smiling and at ease for the first time in weeks, follows her inside

**Author's Note:**

> God does that man need a hug. Thank you for reading! I'm [protectmartinblackwood](https://protectmartinblackwood.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, so feel free to say hi :)


End file.
